The first jump
by Minkey222
Summary: He's done it before, it was inevitable he'd do it again. {teen!lock} {Oneshot} {TRF} {Implied suicide attempt}


_**I promised you all this story sooooo long ago and here it is. Enjoy!**_

 _ **IDONTOWNSHERLOCK**_

* * *

"Freak!" the word called after him. "Get out, Freak!" Another called. The door slams behind him and leaves him to the cruelty of the hell pit, named 'Hallway'. Not one for religion, but he still felt it was a fitting comparison nonetheless. The echos of the shouted insult reverberated around him. People, other students, observed the converse between both him and his 'friends', the thrown insults, many too smart for Anderson and his slut of a girlfriend. The thrown 'him' also. His ribs smarted after the thrown punch to his abdomen. Using his rather vast medical knowledge, he checked himself. Knowing that nothing was going to prevent the events hitherto occurred he made to move. When he did at last move it was if the seal had broken and further insults were hurled at him. Each step hurt and each metaphorical step hurt more, each insult was like adding salt to the open wound and rubbing. But he knew better that to let it get to him. He knew that if he did he would do something that mummy would really not be proud of. He walks down the hallway, taking less than a minute, but with his mind going into hyperdrive, it felt like hours. He reached the door when one voice permeates the careful shield he built to keep them away.

"Just go kill yourself, you _Freak_! You'd be doing _all_ of us a _favour_."

He grimaced. Refusing to give them the satisfaction by turning around and just walks out. Once he has left the building, he decided to give them an eyeful of him. He walks towards his thinking spot. Although never actually claimed, he has taken it for himself and no one decided to oppose. His spot was not the safest, overlooking a large drop, not large enough to kill someone, were they to fall, but enough to render them unconscious for at least a few hours or more, depending on the circumstances. He shivered at the idea of someone bearing over his prone and fragile body. Moreover, it was itself overlooked by almost the entire school, large windows watching his every move. Gawping faces watching as he thought.

It wasn't the first time he had been told to kill himself, he had even contemplated the thought many a time before, then deeming it useless as who would want to waste such an advanced mind? But then again, why did it hurt each time. He glanced down and kicked a rock from his space. He hummed thoughtfully, having had enough time to think over everything. He started to move his body to started walking. He lost his balance and fell. From everybody else's view, it looked as if he had jumped, to what they could perceive, his doom. Gasps and sobs and sorrows where the only noise heard in the corridor, dubbed 'hellhole'. And yet, despite the mutual, silent horror shared among the students at witnessing the 'suicide' of a fellow student, no one dared move to assist him, to even find a body. No one deemed the ' _freak_ ' worthy of a respected 'death'.

"Where's the freak? He owes me something" A shrill voice exclaims. All student body turn to stare at the foreign body.

"Well, where is he?" She demands. Sally Donovan, stands before them all. The source of the original fight, the one to brand Sherlock, because yes that was his name, _Freak_. One brave soul steps forwards. A one, Bryan, lay his rather large hand onto her shoulder.

"He's dead, Sally" He explains, almost silently. He removes his hand, hanging his head he walks away.

 _He's dead._ Questions, demands, exclamations, all died in her throat.

"How?" She questions.

"He jumped" another voice replies.

 _Oh_.

She doesn't move.

"Where is that bastard!" Another loud voice shouts into the abyss. A one, Anderson, no one really knows his first name, opting to call him just 'Anderson', walks towards the scene before him. He walks behind a comatose Sally and places his hand on her shoulder, much like Bryan had only a moment before. Anderson, expecting a flinch, a reaction to his presence was shocked when none came. He moved around her, wary of the fact she appeared to not notice anybody else in the room. He stands before her and asks quietly, much quieter, softer than anyone had heard before;

"What's wrong?"

"He jumped" Sally simply responded, returning to her mute state seconds after and the keys clicked into place in Anderson's mind. He had driven a man to suicide, or at least, he thought he had. He also went as comatose as Sally but did not. He shook himself of the shock and took Sally by the shoulder, returning to the dormitories.

Once they had left nobody dared to move, to accept what had happened and yet they were forced to. Teachers had been informed, the family had been called in and the students had been herded away, into their lessons.

A tapping noise made itself known in the silent corridor. All lessons had begun and the corridor had grown a rather gloomy feel, adjusting the loss of life that had affected them all. The solemn man walked stoically towards the room. The room in which he would be informed of why he had been called to his little brothers school. He truly hoped that mummy wouldn't be disappointed in him again. They all hated it when mummy was disappointed. He would really need to bug his little brothers room, have spies follow him and sort through his room because honestly his drug habit had gone too far. He entered the room.

"I apologize for my brothe-" He began when he was stopped. Hushed by a withered hand held up and a gloomy look from a haunted face.

"Young mister Holmes is dead. He committed suicide at 1100 hours this morning." The headmaster informed him and he felt himself fall into a chair. His brother is dead. It's not a hoax or a joke. They had seen him fall. No body was found. He always thought he would find his brother dead in a ditch after getting into a fight he couldn't win or in his dingy, unkempt, dormitory after an overdose. Not after having jumped off a bloody cliff.

"Thank you" He forced out, stood, brushed off the invisible dust from his trousers and left the room, he umbrella swinging freely on his arm.

Somewhere is the forest Sherlock was starting to wake up. With a groan, he came around and tried to assess where he was. Tall trees surround him. He knew where he was, but how he got here, that was another question. He had been unconscious, that much was obvious. Looking up, he surmised that it was around 5 o'clock. Based on accessible memories he guesses that he had slipped from his thinking spot, seems reasonable, it wouldn't be the first time he had lost his balance although never before had he lost the battle with gravity. He made to stands up but flinched. Broken rib. He went to push himself from the ground then dropped himself. Broken arm. He pushed with the other arm, finding that it wasn't broken, and stood, his head spins and he has to hold onto a tree to stop his descent. Concussion. He measures his injuries and gauges the severity of them. Other than the broken rib, broken wrist and concussion he only had a few other scrapes and bruises, not too much to prevent him walking back to the school. They probably hadn't even noticed that he was gone. His advanced psychology would have to wait. He staggered his way back to the place that he had fallen, slowly walking up the stairs, as to not aggravate his ribs. After what seemed like an eon he had reached the top of the stair.

Leaning on the wall, he caught his breath. Looking around, he noticed not many people were around. Guessing that it was still the last lessons of the day. Even though it was during lesson time, there were people still out. Expecting no looks to be even sent his way or in any case, the ones who had, in fact, acknowledged him, staring in distaste at him, he was shocked to see all eyes on his battered self. No hateful, scornful glares but those of surprise, relief and most shocking enough, glad. One younger student, one Olivia May, had rushed off upon laying her eyes on him. What most surprised him though is that she had rushed straight back and babbled many, many words. To summarise, she said something like;

"Oh my goodness, I thought you had died, everyone was shocked, we thought you jumped, your brother will be happy to see you, oh goodness, you should see Sally, she's really upset. It's nice to have you back, Sherlock!"

And furthermore, she hugged him. aggravating his injuries, but after having been deprived of touch for so long, he welcomed the gesture gladly.

A banging on her door brought her from her sulking. She had basically killed someone today! Couldn't they let her be in peace. When the knocking wouldn't stop, she grudgingly stood and opened it to the flushed face of a younger student. Racking her brain for the name, it came back, Olivia.

"What do you wan-" she was about to question the younger girl in front of her when she was interrupted.

"Sherlock-" she paused to take another deep breath. She took the opportunity to butt in.

"What about Sher-" She was cut off once again by Olivia.

"He's alive!" Olivia exclaimed and Sally felt herself step back. With a hand to her chest, she could feel her heart hammering against her ribcage.

 _Sherlock is alive. He's not dead.i_

"How?" Was her reply, e _loquent as ever_. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Sherlock provided in her mind.

"I don't know, but he's outside." And the younger girl grabbed her hand and pulled her along the corridor and out into the courtyard. There as Olivia had said stood the previously thought dead man. She had never been happier to see him than now.

"Oh god," Sally breathed out before running towards the muddy and bruised man before her and latching onto him as if his life depended on it.

"Sally?" A confused voice asked from above her.

"Don't ever do that to us- me- again."

* * *

" _Fraud detective, Sherlock Holmes, dead after public suicide-"_ Sally cut the television off and sat there shocked.

"How?" She breathed out. _Eloquent as ever, Donovan_ , her mind provided in a voice that suspiciously sounded like the dead detective.

"I-" Anderson started beside her, but stopped before saying anything on the subject.

"It was inevitable. If he had done it before he was bound to do it again-" Anderson started to talk beside her. None of what he was say was sinking into her shocked mind, however, and she just tuned him out.

 _And this time, he's not coming back._ Her mind finished.


End file.
